


those eyes you gave to me

by strangetowns



Series: saw your face, heard your name [2]
Category: Lovely Little Losers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, Minor Injuries, Quidditch, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetowns/pseuds/strangetowns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stark against the vibrant blue sky – as bright as Freddie’s eyes, Jaquie does not think – is the faintest glint of gold.<br/>-<br/>Day 2 of Lovely Little Femslash Week - Hogwarts</p>
            </blockquote>





	those eyes you gave to me

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively: Freddie and Jaquie are on the same quidditch team. Absolutely nothing goes wrong whatsoever.
> 
> In today's episode of "the writer is going to write something she has never written before for the sake of femslash week" we have sports writing! Amazing! Anything for this ship, though. Y'all have no idea how long I've wanted to write them.
> 
> Thank you to [niuniujiaojiao](http://niuniujiaojiao.tumblr.com/) and [boxesfullofthoughts](http://boxesfullofthoughts.tumblr.com/) for your beta'ing efforts. Title is from Lianne La Havas' “[Green & Gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1plQCMNQ4M)”.

About twenty minutes into the strategy meeting Freddie is leading, the painstakingly drawn formations Freddie clearly spent a lot of time on start to blur across Jaquie’s vision.

Strategy is important, being thorough is important, winning is important, blah blah blah. But Jaquie is fairly certain that if they don’t get on the pitch soon and get the feeling back into their bones, strategy isn’t going to do them shit.

She looks round at the rest of the team, the glazed-over eyes and the slumped posture, and none of them even look alive anymore. Jaquie is fairly certain playing a game of quidditch when your whole team has become zombies is not an experience she particularly wants to go through. Well, actually, playing with a bunch of zombies sounds like it would be a wild ride, and she kind of loves wild rides. Just not when the quidditch cup is on the line.

Not to mention, of course, that Freddie’s hand gestures across the board are becoming more and more frantic, and, for some reason, Jaquie feels a little obligated to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

“Freddie,” Jaquie cuts in.

Everyone – Meg and Maria and Julia the chasers, Violet and Zeb the beaters, and Freddie herself, team captain and possessor of formidable eyebrows when she’s been interrupted – turns their heads to her. She pretends having everyone’s eyes on her doesn’t make her heart beat just a little faster.

“Manders,” Freddie says, crossing her arms over her chest, a warning creeping into her voice. “If you have something more important to discuss than broom tactics for dodging bludgers – “

“Great formations, but I think we’re ready,” Jaquie says, confidently; no need to beat around the bush about it. “Let’s kick Hufflepuff’s rear end.”

Freddie widens her eyes and opens her mouth, perhaps in protest, but then Meg pumps her fist into the air and says, “Damn right!” And the rest of the team seems to kind of relax, after that, so Freddie closes her mouth.

They all reach for their brooms, adjusting their arm braces and tying their shoes, filing out in a quiet buzz of chatter. Jaquie stays in her seat, waiting. She isn’t going to leave until Freddie does, and Freddie certainly likes to take her time.

“Freddie,” Jaquie says again. In the empty locker room, her voice reverberates a little.

“I just – can’t get this last lace – “ Freddie’s cheeks are much redder, Jaquie thinks, than they should be. Freddie's fingers tremble as they fumble over her laces, and the sight of that does something to Jaquie’s insides, though if you asked she couldn't tell you what.

With a small sigh, Jaquie walks over and kneels down. “Let me.” She takes the shoelaces from Freddie’s fingers gently, their hands brushing, and ties them slowly, methodically.

There is silence, for a moment, as Jaquie pulls Freddie’s laces into double knots.

“Thanks, by the way,” Freddie says, voice quiet. It is somewhat unexpected to hear her voice so hushed. Jaquie is used to her captain’s emotions coloring her every word and gesture, screaming tactics across the pitch or freaking out over an essay she hasn’t started due the next day, for better or for worse. The quiet now is almost uncomfortably intimate.

“They’re just shoelaces,” Jaquie says breezily.

“No, I mean – stopping me, earlier.”

Jaquie glances up, surprised. Freddie’s face is closer than she expected it to be, and she can see the tiny strands of red hair that straggle over her forehead, the seriousness in her blue eyes.

“I had the impression you didn’t want me to,” Jaquie says honestly. “I was going to apologize, actually, I know you don’t like your authority being questioned – “

“No, don’t.” Freddie looks away, then. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I probably would have gone on _forever_. And you’re right, we need to warm up, and all that. It was just – “

“Nerves,” Jaquie finishes.

“Well. Yeah, I suppose.” Freddie’s brows scrunch up in a frown. “It’s my first official game as captain, and Slytherin was _irritatingly_  close to the cup last year, and we just can’t let our stats dip again…”

Jaquie lets her face burst into a grin, and claps a hand on Freddie’s shoulder. “You’ve no reason to be nervous, Kingston. We’re a good team, and you’re a good captain. It’s all going to go swimmingly.”

“You think?” Freddie bites at her lower lip, glancing back at Jaquie.

“I _know_.” Jaquie straightens up and offers a hand to Freddie. “I mean, how could it be otherwise, when you have the best seeker in the whole castle on your side?”

Freddie laughs, and takes her hand. “You know what they say about pride, Manders.”

Jaquie grips her broomstick in one hand and drapes her other arm over Freddie’s shoulders. “I haven’t the faintest idea, Kingston.”

-

The game starts out slow.

For each goal one of their chasers scores, the other side scores, too. Jaquie does not need to look toward their goalposts to know how tense Freddie will be, her hands tightening around her broomstick so hard her knuckles turn white, barely breathing. She wishes they weren’t in the middle of a game, wishes she could swoop in next to Freddie and time her breaths with her or for her.

But they are in the middle of a game, and Jaquie has other things to focus on. The snitch, thus far, is nowhere to be found.

She swoops up higher, hoping the height will give her a better view. She can put all of the players into the field of her vision now, tracking their movements more easily. Meg grapples for the quaffle with Hufflepuff chaser Kel Forrester. A bludger whistles toward one of the other beaters, Paige Moth; the other one, Chelsey Long, screams, “Oh, no you don’t!” and hits the bludger away, narrowly missing Zeb by what looks like mere inches. Freddie saves a goal attempt from the other side with outstretched fingertips, pushing the quaffle just out of the way. Despite herself, Jaquie feels her heart swell with pride.

Freddie looks up, then, and zeroes her gaze in on her, eerily fast though there’s no way she could have known where Jaquie is hovering. “Manders!” she yells, her voice cutting through the blurred screams of the crowd. “Focus on the damn snitch!”

Well, _shit_.

Quickly, she tears her gaze away from Freddie to the other side of the pitch. Hero Duke, the Hufflepuff seeker, is careening downward, eyes focused on a smear of gold Jaquie can see just in front of her.

“Shit,” Jaquie says out loud, and leans forward.

Flying, Jaquie has always said when asked, is quite simply the best thing she’s ever experienced. But they’re such flat words, honestly, so inadequate. There is something not quite describable about the breeze blasting your hair away from your face, spiraling up into a sky that takes your breath away, nothing between you and open air but wind. There is something almost divine about it, something beyond the comprehensible. Jaquie has never tried to understand, really. She doesn’t have to. The impulse of flying has always pulsed through her veins.

And in times like these, she doesn’t have a single thought to spare.

Jaquie is sure she crosses that pitch faster than she ever has in her life, but she doesn’t have time to care about breaking records. She slices her way into Hero’s path, forcing the other seeker to pull up sharply on her broomstick. Jaquie still doesn’t know where the snitch is, but at least Hero doesn’t either.

“Nicely played,” Hero says, and if Jaquie didn’t know any better, she might say there’s a flicker of annoyance in the Hufflepuff’s eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” Jaquie says dryly, swerving away. She’s bought some time, but not much. She glances back at the scoreboard. In the time she spent flying across the pitch like her life depended on it, her side has managed to pull ahead in a 70-50 lead. She resists the urge to celebrate and sweeps the field with her eyes carefully. That lead will mean nothing if she can’t catch the snitch.

There. Stark against the vibrant blue sky – as bright as Freddie’s eyes, Jaquie does not think – is the faintest glint of gold.

As soon as she starts for it, though, she can tell Hero has caught on to her, and is now chasing her close behind. Swallowing her annoyance down, Jaquie hunkers her shoulders down and wills her broomstick to move faster. There are no tricks now that can help her, only speed and pure instinct.

The thing is, though, Jaquie Manders has both in abundance, and in a contest like this has never in her life been beaten. Hero Duke doesn’t stand a chance.

She reaches out, eyes trained on the snitch. There is nothing in the world right now that could make her look away. _Focus on the damn snitch_. The words echo through her skull. Well, she plans to.

The snitch swoops to the ground, but she’s hot on its tail, and it’s _right there_ , and there is no way, she thinks with sharp satisfaction, Hero Duke can catch her now.

Her fingers close around the golden ball, and she looks behind her, eyes already searching for Freddie, and that’s probably why she misses the bludger that smashes into the back of her skull.

There is pain, and yelling, and darkness, and Freddie’s voice – “Jaquie!” – and the strangest sensation of falling, and then, silence.

-

She wakes up in a darkened hospital wing.

Immediately, Jaquie brings a hand to her skull, groaning. It feels like it’s breaking apart. No, it feels like it’s being smashed apart with a mallet, then doused with snake oil, and then set on fire.

“Manders.”

She starts, then winces. She had assumed she was the only person in the wing, but now that she makes herself pay attention, she can see Freddie Kingston sitting in the chair next to her, still in quidditch gear.

And then she sees that Freddie Kingston has Jaquie’s hand clasped between the both of hers, and the sight is overwhelming enough to make her close her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says, haltingly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Jaquie rasps out, sounding anything but. “What did Madame Pomfrey say?”

Jaquie feels her hand squeezed, and she feels her heart squeezing, too.

“You won’t like it.”

Jaquie opens her eyes, and manages to crack a grin. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to fight her. Come on, what is it?”

Freddie purses her lips. “Bed rest for tonight, and whatever vile potion _that_ is,” Freddie says, pointing toward a slightly smoking bottle on the nightstand with her chin and making a gagging sound. Jaquie giggles; it hurts, but only a little.

Then Freddie bites her lower lip - this is absolutely the wrong moment to think about how cute that kind of is, but Jaquie does it anyway - and says, “Also… You’re not to be on the pitch for two weeks.”

Jaquie stares at Freddie for a moment. To Freddie’s credit, she seems almost as unhappy delivering the news as Jaquie is to hear it.

“Well, I’m definitely fighting Madame Pomfrey, then,” Jaquie says.

Freddie laughs, but it’s off, and it shouldn’t be off. “Please don’t,” Freddie says, her voice all tilted and wrong. Jaquie decides she hates the way it sounds.

“Freddie,” Jaquie says. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Freddie says nothing, only glances down and closes her eyes.

“You weren’t even _near_ me – “

“A captain is always responsible for her teammates,” Freddie grits out. “ _Always_. Especially if they fall from the height you did – “

“I’m _fine_ – “

“You’re clearly not!” Freddie bursts out, her eyes snapping open, voice echoing through the wing. She falls to silence, the smallest of creases between her brows, and Jaquie knows, sudden dread rising up in her heart, that she’s struck a nerve.

“You didn’t see yourself when they brought you in here,” Freddie says, slowly. “You didn’t have to walk next to your broken, unconscious body, you didn’t have to think about all the ways it could have been different, if only you’d just flown _faster_ – “

She takes in a sharp breath, harsh and jagged around the edges, and brings her forehead to her hands, still gripping at Jaquie’s fingers. Jaquie can feel the irregular rhythm of Freddie’s breath against her skin, and it prickles.

“I’m sorry,” Jaquie says.

Freddie snorts. “For what?”

Jaquie shrugs. “Causing all the commotion. I’m sure everyone was falling all over themselves to come help me.”

Freddie smiles, just a little. “Actually, you should have seen it. As soon as the bludger hit you, Paige Moth dropped her club and squealed out, ‘I’m so sorry!’ I dunno who feels worse about it, our team or Paige Moth. I mean, she _should_ feel bad about it, the bludger was completely unnecessary, but she’s so nice, I almost feel bad about her feeling bad…”

Almost instinctively, Jaquie lets her thumb rub over the skin of Freddie’s knuckles. Freddie doesn’t react, but Jaquie can see the tension in her shoulders relax, ever so slightly.

“Did we win?” Jaquie says.

“Did we – “ Freddie breathes out a laugh, disbelieving. “If I tell you, you’re just going to let it go to your head.”

“Maybe my skull needs the protection,” Jaquie muses.

“Don’t you dare – “

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about _doing_ anything – “

“Yes,” Freddie says. And then she brings Jaquie’s hand to her mouth and presses her lips against her skin, and Jaquie’s heart goes from zero to soaring just like that. Finally, a real smile spreads across Freddie’s face, slow, beautiful. “We won.”

“I told you I was the best seeker in the castle.” Jaquie doesn’t bother trying to keep the smugness out of her voice.

Freddie leans in, and her eyes are blazingly blue. The color of her eyes is a color that steals Jaquie’s breath away.

“I never doubted it, Jaquie Manders,” Freddie says, her breath billowing over Jaquie’s skin.

Their lips meet, and Jaquie thinks, tightening her fingers around Freddie’s, that the definition of flying ought to be rewritten someday.


End file.
